


Cold

by waitshewrites



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, tronnor - Fandom, troye/connor - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Breakup Fic, M/M, Sad, tronnor angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitshewrites/pseuds/waitshewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They lost each other along the way, and loneliness is cold.<br/>or<br/>Three times their kisses warmed their hearts and once when nothing could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

There are a million ways to lose someone. Sometimes, it’s a sweeping blow that pulls the rug out from under you and has you falling on your face. These losses punch you in the gut, leaving you keeling over, winded. But, all too often, it’s a gradual loss that stealthily drags you under, muffling your screams. These are the silent tragedies and the worst to endure.

Connor didn’t know when the love had drained out of their home. Maybe they should have worked harder to uphold movie night, maybe Troye shouldn’t have stopped bringing home dinner, and maybe Connor should have continued to make coffee for two in the morning. Somehow, this coldness had crept up behind them and settled in between them. The silence had grown so common that he didn’t even notice it sometimes. They’d sunk into routine and went about their days; monotony mistaken for comfort.

It’d taken Connor forever to realize there was a difference, and even longer to recognize that it was a negative difference. But “coming home” no longer had a meaning to Connor.

Connor turned the keys and pushed open his front door, as he’d done so many times before. He dropped his heavy bag at the door, and called out for his boyfriend, “Troye?”

No answer. No surprise, Troye was never home early anymore.

Connor sighed and walked over to the couch, without turning on the lights.

***

 _“Con! You’re home!” As soon as Connor entered the house, a sweet boyish face looked up from a laptop’s glow and grinned at Connor from the couch. “I’ve been waiting for you! You have to hear what happened today in the studio- and by the way Emma thinks we’ll be able to fit in a detour trip to Perth- oh and I have a new documentary we_ have _to see immediately and-”_

_“Woah woah. Breathe Tro.” Connor laughed as his heart warmed at Troye’s earnest excitement, “I didn’t catch any of that you were talking so fast. Something about Emma, I think?”_

_“Okay. Come sit down, I have so much to tell you.”_

_“I haven’t even taken my coat off! And can we do this over food? I’m sorry babe, I’m starving.”_

_Troye dramatically sighed with hints of a smile on his face, “There’s takeaway in the fridge. You go change and I’ll heat it up.”_

_“Deal. We talk in five. Ready, break!” Connor made a theatrical scramble for the door, already starting to unzip his jacket on the way to their room._

_Troye threw his head back in mirthful laughter, before he realized what he was missing. “Hey Con?”_

_“Yeah?” A voice called from the bedroom._

_Troye rolled his eyes, he was being silly. “Um… Nothing.”_

_A pants-less Connor appeared in the entrance. “Sorry, I forgot.” Connor spoke sincerely yet beamed while he crossed the room._

_He settled on the couch, his bare knee brushing against Troye’s sweatpants. Emerald eyes met the crystalline ones, breaths hitched, and toes curled in anticipation of something so simple. “Hi Troye.”_

_Connor kissed Troye as though there were nothing in the world more precious than him. And in the midst of pure oblivion, Troye marveled at how lucky he was._

*** 

The tired sofa sagged under Connor’s weight, the pillows flat, the fabric freezing. He stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing. Today had been _so_ long, and at risk of being overemotional, Connor felt like the entire world had been conspiring against him. As listlessness hollowed his bones, Connor ached to really talk to someone.

“I’m so alone.” He said to absolutely no one. His voice was hoarse, his fingers numbed.

Troye used to be his someone.

Connor forced himself up, and he ambled over to the kitchen.

*** 

 _“No! That’s not how you do it!” Connor giggled. “_ Troyee _.”_

_Attempting to be the cute, cliché couple that they already were, Connor and Troye decided to try making a home cooked dinner together. They’d shifted around their schedules and worked extra hard to make time, but Thursday night they were free and together in the cramped kitchen._

_Connor really had thought he’d chosen a simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and asparagus but nothing was too challenging when it came to Troye and cooking._

_Troye had already managed to burn the asparagus and splatter tomato sauce everywhere, yet Connor couldn’t be angry._

_“What did I do wrong this time?!”_

_“The water has to boil_ before _you put the pasta in!!”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes!” Connor’s voice strained to a high pitch, as he turned to spoon the uncooked pasta out into a dry bowl._

_“Aw, Con-con, it’s just pasta.” Troye teased, leaning forward to kiss Connor gently on the cheek._

_Connor went pink. “I know.” He grumbled, determinedly intent on the spaghetti strands._

_Troye wasn’t going to let this cranky demeanor go, his movements slowed as he placed deliberate kisses down Connor’s prominent jawline.  Troye shifted behind Connor, pressing light kisses to the back of his neck._

_“I can make it up to you later, Con.” Troye’s whisper ghosted over Connor’s skin, sending electricity down his spine. Troye’s hands moved down to hold Connor’s hips, firmly yet gently._

_Connor was melting, allowing himself to recline against Troye. He almost forgot his dangerous posti/on, until he moved to grip the counter’s edge, his hand landing too close to a burner._

_Connor’s hand snapped back and he uprighted himself. “Troye, I’m standing in front of a hot stove!”_

_“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Troye broke away. Worry filled Troye’s doe eyes, easing Connor instantly._

_“I’m fine,” Connor leaned in to press a chastise kiss to Troye’s lips, “But you’re still going to make it up to me, right?”_

_Wrapping his arms around Connor, Troye again forgot the hot stovetop. “Of course.” They were positively breathless._

***

Connor huffed, the fridge had nothing to offer, and he really didn’t have the energy to eat anyways. He closed the door, it’s usually quiet thud resounded through the whole apartment. Everything felt so big today, perhaps because the housing was made for a family.

Connor headed to his bedroom. A place that had once held so many instances of emotional connections, long nights of love and secret conversations of indeterminable value.

Somewhere along the line, the fiery and passion has fizzled. Their touches lost their spark- and even their warmth. Now they made love in the dark with still eyes and direct movements. There had been a time when they watched each other with a reverence, when they craved each other’s contact, when they held each other’s complete attention.

Connor kicked off his shoes, and crawled under the covers, pulling them around him. He wanted nothing more than to disintegrate into the mattress, but sleep’s mercy wouldn’t have him.

***

_Shrieking with laughter, Connor fell onto the bed, kicking and writhing beneath Troye._

_Once again, Troye had found a new place Connor was ticklish. In all fairness, Connor was ticklish just about everywhere, but that didn’t stop Troye from having his fun._

_Connor could scarcely breathe as he struggled to escape Troye’s grasp.  Troye’s hands were anywhere he could reach: Connor’s neck to his knees to his sides._

_“Stop! Troye! TROYE!”  A very flushed, overheated Connor moved up the bed to get away, vying for some fresh air. But Troye refused to relent, following Connor.._

_They were like school children, momentarily ignoring all obligations and stresses... to have a tickle fight. Troye was definitely winning._

_Finally,_ eventually _, Troye halted. Connor panted heavily, clutching his side. Both were all worked up and rather sweaty. Connor watched Troye cautiously, convinced that the tickle attacks would renew themselves shortly._

_Yet, Troye was just hovering above Connor, watching him with a soft smile as their breathing steadied._

_Troye’s eyes washed over Connor, clearly indulging in some secret pleasure. When he spoke, it was in a hushed tone barely above a whisper. “You’re something else, Connor.”_

_“I could say the same to you.” And then they were kissing._

_In the burning heat of their bodies, everything was too close for comfort, but neither could get enough. Troye closed the gap, lying between Connor’s hips like a missing puzzle piece. They lazily rolled around and relished sticky kisses like they had all the time in the world. Like they would forever happily be in love._

***

“I’m home.” A voice called out, bouncing off the walls of the seemingly empty apartment.

Emotionless, the voice could hardly be identified with it’s owner.

Connor pulled himself out from under the cozy cocoon of blankets and into the overly air conditioned real world. Folding his arms in front of his chest, hunching over to shield himself from the chill, Connor made his way back to the living room.

“Hey.” He said gingerly when he saw Troye.

“Hi.” The lull spoke volumes. Connor sat on a stool, and Troye unloaded groceries from a few bags.

“How was your day?”

“Good.” Troye replied dully before reconsidering, “Exhausting.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Gotta pay the bills.” Troye’s head was in the fridge; he was rearranging things and speaking without really being present.

Connor pushed himself up and walked over to Troye, giving Troye a start when he turned around to be face to face with Connor.

Before Troye said anything else, Connor pressed his lips to Troye’s. His hand cupped Troye’s jawline like he knew Troye used to love and he pulled Troye’s waist in close. Troye squeezed his eyes shut and kissed back hard.

When Connor pulled away, there were tears glistening on Troye’s long lashes.

The spark was gone and they both knew it.

Everything has collapsed around Connor, he lost his rock, his everything, his Troye. He was lying if he said he hadn’t seen their foundation crumbling.

Simultaneously, they enveloped each other in a tight embrace. Connor’s arms laced around Troye’s neck as Troye’s arms encompassed Connor’s middle. They each slumped into the hug, each leaning his weight against the other, regret seeping out from both.

“I’m sorry.” Troye croaked.

“You shouldn’t be. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be either!”

They pulled away reluctantly.

Connor looked to Troye, to his feet, then back to Troye.

“What do we do now?” Troye asked quietly. With his shoulders hanging low and his eyes wide, Troye resembled the pure 18 year old Connor had fallen in love with so long ago.

“We go to bed.”

“Connor.” Troye warned.

“No, Troye. I just… I just want to hold your hand.” Troye seemed to hold back, maintaining his reserves. Connor continued, “We’ll deal with this in the morning, I promise. I just can’t-”

“Yeah.” Troye cut him off and took Connor’s hand loosely, his touch still cold. “Okay.”


End file.
